A Letter to the Gross Sore-seal
by Maple Syrup-tard
Summary: Prequel to 'A Letter to Mum' depicting the day America and Canada run away from home. This in turn leaves England the task of saving them from the dangers of the forest; or in this case, wolves and faes. Can be read alone but will make more sense if you read A Letter to Mum. *One-shot*


Alright, I got a review from Glaceon1362 reminding me that thing exists so, thank you for reminding me again~ I've had this sitting half finished in my Doc Manager for quite a while so I'm so sorry that I couldn't put it out there faster... And I'm also sorry for my lack of activity... Life is slowly swallowing me up but, I am trying to get back to writing again.

Now, I hope you guys enjoy the idea of some of the little things mentioned from my other fic, "A Letter to Mum" being played out here because, this is what it basically is... That and it gives me an excuse to write another letter format fanfiction (which I'm sure you guys can tell I love doing)~

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and please enjoy this prequel and tell me what you think~ :)  
(A/N: I somewhat stepped out from my usual comfort zone of just fluff for this one so don't be surprised if this fic is somewhat awkward...)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. **

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**Dear England,**

**We're running away forever into the forest you told us to never go deep into and gonna live in the abandoned cabin me and Mattie found yesterday thats also deep into the forest. Don't worry about Mattie because he'll be safe with me! (I'm a Hero~)**

**Were running away because your a big, fat, and gross sore-seal MEANIE! (P.s- I got the gross sore-seal from Francee-pants! Whenever he says it to you you get angry so... I hope you get angry... But I don't get how your a sore-seal... You don't look gross or sore to me unless you sleep at your desk... And you definitely don't look like a seal... You'll have to tell me another time because Mattie's laughing at me and won't tell me if I spelled the word right.)**

**And just so you know, I hate you so much England! You called us brats! And you made Mattie cry over dinner earlier and I'm never gonna forgive you and plus you made me almost cry to... But ALMOST! Hero's don't cry! Did you know that England?**

**Also, did you know that hero's are very smart so, that's why when I decided that we should run away, Mattie listened to me!**

**You should be proud of me!**

**And! And!**

**We're not never coming back!**

**So you can go do that thing you tell us to do when were naughty and have to sit in a corner... Which Mattie says is called 'Reflect on our actions and accept the consekwenses' (Um, I'm not sure if that's how you spell it. You didn't teach me that word before... Make sure you teach me in English lessons next time!). So England! I hope you sit in a corner (Remember! Punishments means no books or toys with you in the corner! And no getting up either!) and reflect!**

**... Oh and please don't use my corner... I think my boogers are still there from last time... I picked my nose because it was itchy... I'm sorry! You're rules say that were not allowed to get up and get anything until you tell us we can get up so I didn't get up to get tissues! ... If it makes you feel better, I washed my hands after... I'm really sorry...**

**NOW! Mattie and me are officially running away at the end of this note because I finished packing my favourite crayons (like my sky blue one!) and Mattie wanted to pack his art but I had to wait which is why I'm writing this note. Now that Mattie's done packing, this notes gonna end.**

**So. Bye bye England the gross sore-seal!**

**Love,**

**Alfred and Mattie~**

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England knew that his 'parental instincts' were trying to tell him something the moment the twins ran off into their room to supposedly 'play' after his outburst. It was too bad he didn't listen to the feeling sooner and checked on them or he wouldn't have been in this situation.

With the window wide open and the invasive warm wind creeping throughout the room, and occasionally passing his check in mock sympathy for his loss, stood he with the note. Observing the note, he determined it was an abomination to him. French, a running away letter and, little bits of glitter and hearts drawn messily everywhere in adoration of him? The letter itself was a paradox. It blew his mind to how ridiculously conflicting this note was to him.

His face, in response, was in no better state. There was a heated battle on whether it should show sadness for the loss of his favorite (and cutest) colonies, anger for his stupidity (they were still kids), swelling pride at Alfred's cute (but loathsome) attempt at French, or disgust at the boy's atrocious writing skills...

Now that he had proof Alfred wasn't really paying attention in his English classes, he would have to crack down on him twice as hard...

But that's besides the point.

He really shouldn't have shouted at the two. He knew he couldn't cook and was actually damn surprised that they put up with his cooking until now. He couldn't blame them when he burnt the bread and the fruits a tad more than usual, not to mention the white-soup had too much salt (and it was purple but, that's a different story). But, meeting with France today to arrange his surprise visit with the twins, put his nerves into a torture chamber. He should've just let France come over today like he planned but then again, he was too much of a twat to deal with.

Grabbing a fistful of his shaggy hair, he let out a curse and shoved the note into his pocket. Why was he so stupid?! Mathew was just drizzling maple syrup on their (sadly terrible) dinner and it was Alfred's fault they were making up monster names for the gunk... Nothing new, so why did he snap? Calling them 'ungrateful little brats' in his broken spirit was NOT a smart move to pull on little colonies.

He wondered what would've happened if he didn't snap... They would've probably all be cozy together on his bed, under his warm comforter, with him recalling his grand adventures and battles against France but on a child friendly level.

But, because he let his stubbornness and stress get the best of him, here he was. Alone in the twins room that he put time and effort to decorate and angry at Alfred's issue with the English language. The thick scribbles of Alfred's handwriting mocked him every time he looked to the pocket holding the note causing frustration to build in his heart.

What was he going to do?

Glancing out the window, England could only think of the dangers that would lurk in every crevice of the forest. Who would protect them? Would they fall off a cliff? Would they even make it to the cabin deep into the woods, which also reminded him of the fact that he needed to scold the twins for breaking a rule... Realizing he was getting off topic, England smacked his cheeks to get him back on track. He needed to think positive! Take action! Something!

With the window still open, the only comforting thing the spiteful wind could offer was the fact the night was not too cold or hot. It also reminded him of the day he became brothers with Alfred and Matthew... Thinking back, they did live in the woods for a while right? At least that guaranteed that they wouldn't get lost should they decide to come back.

... But what if they never came back?

It was hard to imagine but, he would probably never want to see this place again. He'd probably move away; pack things that didn't remind him of Matthew's poems or Alfred's art and hope he would find a new place he could call home. It would be hard knowing what he built here with the twins was his first real home, due to his terrible relationship with his brothers and other people in general.

... Who was he kidding? He would never find a home as great as this one and he blew his chances of keeping it. With a sigh and the lonely echoes from the pads of his feet meeting the hardwood floors, he tried to trudge away from the room to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

"ENGLAND!"

Only to be stopped by Flying Mint Bunny.

"ENGLAND! YOU NEED TO COME QUICK!" The cute winged creature fluttered in circles around England's depressed demeanor. England's defeated soul deemed his usually most important friend as unimportant and ignored him to continue his sluggish walk until-

"ENGLAND! PUT ON YOUR BOOTS! HURRY! FAES! THE TWINS ARE IN TROUBLE!"

Now THAT jolted him out of his slump.

Without even knowing it, leftover 'bread' was being shoved into his pocket, his boots were on and, he was out the door following Flying Mint Bunny. His nerves were on edge and being wrung out with the massive amount of uneasiness and fear in his system. Faes were never a good sign at this time of night... Though, he couldn't help but wonder; weren't Alfred and Matthew too big to be taken by Faes...? But that question didn't matter because the deeper into the forest he went, the easier the muffled yells of the twins could be heard. He didn't care that he lost Flying Mint Bunny in the thicket of the forest, his instinctual drive to save them was on high alert. Running towards them, he could start to make out their cries for help and their tiny but nimble figures.

"HEEEELP! ENGWAAAAAND! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"ENGLAND! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" Never in his life had England heard Matthew scream for a soul that desperate and loud. He needed to get there now!

He pushed his legs to the limit and his muscles ached and burned. His lungs felt as they had burst into a plethora of rubbery pieces but continued to pushed on. The sight of the twins with salty cheeks and a soiled complexion, being chased by Faes riding on three wolves appalled him. And if that wasn't enough, one of the Faes jumped off their wolf and tripped Matthew stopping England's heart. All the sweet boy could do was stare, shell-shocked, of the ravenous wolves quickly approaching to consume him.

"MATTIE!" Stopping in his tracks, face plastered with pure horror, Alfred cried a gut wrenching plea for the wolves to stop, thinking he was about to loose his brother. The distress and shrill in Alfred's voice was where England had to draw the line.

With a fellow swoop, England threw 'bread' at the Fae's to ward them off and picked up his little trouble makers and bolted deeper in the forest. He didn't stop or dare looking back taking the growls of the wolves as a sign they weren't going to give up. After all, it would take more than just his own bread to stop hungry wolves.

While running, because he couldn't stop, he decided to assess the condition of the twins. Upon closer inspection, his heart that stopped moments ago, shattered into fine fragments. Their dishevelled head of hair clung to their muddy, tearstained faces and violently sobbed, deepening the red on their blood shot eyes. They were panting hard, alerting him to their over exhaustion, and wouldn't stop crying 'England! We're so sorry!' in-between their hiccups. He prayed that they wouldn't faint this far into the woods because he was going to faint himself. Finally, pity was bestowed upon him when England found himself in a forest clearing. Right smack in the middle stood a broad and majestic oak tree. If it wasn't for the current situation he was in, he would've stopped and admired the noble ruler of this clear but again, the twins safety was a high priority.

With what little strength he had left, England heaved the twins onto his back and climbed onto the sturdiest and highest branch, that was just out of reach of the wolves, he could find. With an overwhelming amount of reluctance from Alfred and Matthew when they were told to stay, England quickly climbed down armed with a make do branch sword to stop the wolves once and for all.

He tried his best to fight valiantly as each wolf took their turn lunging towards him, swinging and whipping the branch, but it was no use. Defeat was upon him the moment the wolves shattered the branch sword into fine fragments with their teeth in attempt to shield himself.

He wouldn't admit it later on in life but, England was terrified. He knew nations couldn't die but the awful truth that Alfred and Matthew were about to witness and hear chunks of his own flesh ripped in harmony with wails of pain (just because he couldn't die didn't mean it wouldn't hurt) was enough to force a decision of action. They didn't deserve to witness something that horrid. Nations so young and innocent... It's something that needed to be protected...

So, with a straight back and silent tears streaming down his face, England stared straight into the beady eyes of his tormentors. If they were going to get him, it would be far as possible from the twins-

"E-england..?"

He was going to run. Run far away to protect the little voices calling for him up in the tree. For them.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

-Well, he was going to run if only the wolves hadn't drowned in their own pool of blood. Shocked, England stood wide eyed above the group of fur. Was it an act of magic that they drowned? Yes... And that's why his ears were ringing right?

Releasing a shaky breath he didn't realize he had been holding, England continued to stare at the spectacle. He watched as the fur slowly become stained black and soaked despite the absence of rain. He marveled at the little phenomenon he had discovered. It wasn't until his high off adrenaline died down and the ringing ceased that his brain processed the events and he could faintly hear timid calls of 'England? A-are you okay?' from the tree once again. Unfortunately, he was not.

"O-oh my I... W-wh... I-I-I don't unders-" England snapped.

Once the floodgates open, he couldn't stop. Holding himself against the oak tree with one hand and his face in the other, he violently shook and sobbed into his shirt. His brain scowled him for being an idiot for crying like the slumped loser he was under the oak tree but, he was just so damned relieved. The world around him stayed silent and let him cry for the victorious safety of Alfred and Matthew.

It wasn't until his crying softened that he realized there were blood splatters on his face judging by the sudden appearance of a smeared, dark substance reeking of death on the palm he used to rub his face. Which was weird... It was also in this epiphany that he realized someone towered above him.

Ah. The figure, a teenage male to be precise by his outline against the moon, held a pistol in his hand. 'So the wolves died by a gun and not by magic which explains the blood splatter' he noted.

"Are you alright?" How long had he been standing there? Before he could ask, the figure extended a hand to him.

Oh wait. Annoying silk-like voice and French accent meaning-

"Frog." Despite his distaste for the teen, he accepted the hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet; just this once.

"I see you have recovered by your snobby response. Lets get the twins and go hm?" If this was any other day, England would've flipped the French idiot off and strut by him but, he was exhausted both physically and mentally.

Using a nod to signal his agreement with France (England had to hold down his gag reflex at this action) they climbed the tree to retrieve the panicked colonies. With some reassuring words and coddling, they started the walk back with Alfred in France's arms and Matthew in his.

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There was a comforting and warm blanket of silence wrapped around the four of them. It was what one would call pleasant, though, it was almost sickening to see how peaceful nature remained, unaffected from the traumatic events that had just transpired. The crickets chirped and the fireflies fluttered by eliciting much needed laughter from the twins when they landed in Matthew's hair, which, was the only reason that England ruled he could forgive nature right now. He couldn't help but feel somewhat paranoid the wolves would jump out from nowhere and snatch his twins.

As the walk continued, the little giggles died down and the four of them found themselves at their destination.

Handing over Alfred to his respectful caregiver, France bid a silent goodbye through a curt nod suggesting that this temporary truce would last for a little longer. England watched as the man disgustingly sashayed away and disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. Turning his attention to the twins once his gag reflexes calmed for the millionth time tonight, he was met with their striking violet and endless blue eyes. When they continued to stare, he couldn't help but stutter a pathetic 'what is it?'.

Some awkward moments passed before Alfred spoke.

"Well, since you were staring at Francey pants for a long time, me and Mattie had some time to talk and stuff and we were wondering if," he hesitated and looked to his brother in support, receiving a nod as a sign to continue. "... Do me 'n Mattie still need to take a bath?"

Dumbfounded, England gaped. After all this night had thrown at him and his near death experience, that was one of the last things he would've expected out of the boy's mouth. An unintentional girlish giggle escaped his lips causing Matthew to cringe and Alfred to pout looking as if he had had threatened Alfred's non-existent man-hood. He couldn't help it! It was weird; in that one little question, paranoia no longer plagued him and the feeling of peace finally washed over him.

"Engwaaaaaaand! Whats so funny?"

Stifling his giggles, England answered, "Mm, nothing Alfred... In fact-" He blew little raspberries onto both of their cheeks relishing the amazing sound of their high-pitched squeals. "How about we skip the bath all together and we sleep in my, how did you guys put it... Oh! Marshmallow of a bed, hm?" The twins didn't even have to think. One look to each other was all they needed to shout a loud and excited 'YES!'.

And that's all he needed to know his little home he built had thankfully not been destroyed.

~Maple Syrup-tard

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_Notes (info taken off Wikipedia so could totally be wrong):_

_-The words Alfred is trying to refer to in the letter is actually a French. Les Gros Sourcils to be exact~~ I'm pretty sure you can guess what France is trying to convey based on the way England and him interact~_

_-Apparently people cooked certain fruits in this time period_

_-Not all fairies were actually good; some of them apparently liked to cause trouble. In fact, some stole children... However in this case, Alfred and Matthew were not kidnapped but just victims of fairies wanting to cause trouble._

_-As an add on, apparently bread is a good way to ward off fairies hence the pocket full of bread that England carried._

_-(Not taken off wikipedia for obvious reasons) England refers to Canada and America with their human names because they're not nations yet... Plus, according to my head canon, when he uses human names it signifies a type of acceptance and familiarity towards the individual. _

Whew. Finally done! I hope I didn't raise your expectations for nothing :'D


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